The Pills

It's been six months today since I lost Roxanne. No way can I lie about how easy it's been. It still aches. I guess it's true that the pain never leaves. I imagine it's not supposed to. All you can hope to do is either learn to absorb it or learn to isolate it. Failing that, you take the one step which will stop the pain. Which brings me to the bottle of pills. Sometimes I actually forget that they're there. But if I've made it six months without them -- and I'm proud to say I have -- well, that must be significant.

Until now, I've never told anyone about the pills. Rox was terrified of dentists, so she had a script for Valium she would take before having dental work done. When she died, she had been scheduled for a dentist's appointment in a few days So she had filled the prescription. I came across it while cleaning our her desk.I threw out most of her medicines, but I kept this bottle. In those uncertain days, I feared the real possibilty that life without her might simply be too much for me to bear.

I've always been a real chickenshit, sometimes choosing my path based not on what was right, but what was easiest.This would be my safety valve. I would hold on as long as possible, and should it finally defeat me, I could easily stop the pain forever. As long as I can see tomorrow, as long as I can find a reason why I should be here tomorrow, I don't need the pills.

Today's lesson? Look for tomorrow. As long as it's on the horizon, I'll be there to see it, God willing. There may come a day when I can't see tomorrow. I'll deal with that when it happens. It's not come in six months, and for that, I thank the Lord. You see, I'm still as chickenshit as ever.

For now, my safety valve remains packed away. I don't know about tomorow, but today -- just for today -- I can live without it.

StevenK